Triathlon College
by MattyCM
Summary: Step into the college for lads training to becoming elite Triathletes. Read the story of their developement while dressing in a variety of tight clothes from lycra to neoprene.


**Tri Institute**

Jack sat on the edge of his bed. He should have been getting ready for a weekend away. His clothes still hung in the wardrobe though. Instead he was dressed in his black Orca Triathlon suit. The tight garment hugged every curve of his skinny body. Zipped at the back, his chest glistened in the light. His small figure made an impressive sight. At 5'9" some had said he'd struggle in the competitive triathlon world, but he'd always proved them wrong

His bright blond hair was a contrast to the dark material enclosing his body, it wandered across his head completely untamed, fitting well with his dark brown eyes.

Across the floor his room mate Guy was struggling into a extremely tight 2XU wetsuit. Mat black all over, except for a chest logo, He too was of small stature, almost exactly the same size and build as Jack, but even skinnier. As Guy pulled his wetsuit up to his shoulders, the Black 2XU trisuit disappeared beneath the rubber. Jack watched on, his mind drifting back to how it had come to be.

Jack had joined the Institute two years ago, aged 18. A facility with the objective of creating the most dedicated athletes. Students lived on campus and attended class Monday to Friday, with half a day Saturday, usually a competition. Coaches worked on every aspect of their performance. All this came at a price. Those not meeting the required standard were punished. Falling just short of the standard would see a more normal punishment, running, swimming or cycling, in the free time between Saturday lunch and Monday. However, those falling more wide of the mark, were subjected to a harsher punishment.

The Head of the facility, known only as Lord Cowan, was a strong believer in Corporal punishment. He decreed that any student falling widely short of the standard would be subjected to a number of electrical of shocks, ranging in length and intensity for the offence, followed by a period of imprisonment in an underwater prison.

As a successful student, Jack had been asked to mentor Guy. Guy had been consistently falling behind with his training and performance. This caused him to be a regular visitor to the punishment suite.

Jack had been working with Guy for two weeks, that morning had been the first test of this mentoring. Feeling confident that he'd help to turn Guy around, Jack streaked off on his own in the house triathlon, finishing a credible 5th out of 60 entrants. He'd missed Guy at the finish line and it wasn't until they were back at the House he'd been able to ask Guy what position he finished. His jaw hit the floor as Guy announced 55th. The bottom 10%. He couldn't believe it. That not only meant punishment but as his mentor, Jack would be held to account as well! A student under mentor ship received 75% of their punishment, with the other 25% being given to their mentor.

Drifting back to the now, Jack realised he'd better finish getting ready. Being late would mean the punishment increased. He scrambled into his wetsuit, barely dry from that mornings race. A Black Orca Speedsuit, it fitted him well. Closing the zipper, he waved his arms around to settle the heavy rubber into place. Now his tracksuit. Possibly a ridiculous combination but Lord Cowan demanded every student be in uniform when moving about the grounds.

Black bottoms with a white pin stripe, completed with light weight top. Red across the shoulders, separating the black bottom lower half with a white band across the mid section.

Quietly he slipped on a pair of red football socks, reaching half way up his lower leg, he placed them over the top of the tracksuit bottoms. Finally he slipped into his trainers, black with red lining. He carefully laced them up, any loose laces might be considered untidy and incur extra punishment.

Standing in front of the full mirror, he adjusted his tracksuit until he was satisfied. Using his fingers, he brushed his loose fringe into a more orderly fashion.

He turned to his room mate, Guy. If Guy were untidy it might be reflected on him also. As Guy stood bolt upright, Jack went about him, smoothing out his clothing into a sharper look. He noticed his top was at half mast. Using one hand to pull the fabric tight, he gently closed the zipper to it's full length, below Guy's chin. "Better not give his Lordship any excuses, aye mate?"

Born and bred in the Midlands, he spoke in a soft voice, his accent polished by years of Grammar school.

Together they walked out of the room and stood to in the hall way, one either side of the door. Feet shoulder width apart, hands behind their back, they stood in silence, waiting.

It didn't take long for their house master to appear. A middle aged gentleman, large of figure and shaved bald head. He addressed them in his broad Oxfordshire accent. "Very well Gentlemen, you both know the procedure so there is no need for me to explain what happens now. I shan't inspect you as I shouldn't need to be prompting you at this stage. Report to the Punishment suite, Double!"

Silently the lads turned to their left and immediately broke into a jog. It was two miles to the Punishment Suite and they were expected to run all the way, despite the weight of clothing. As they stepped out the door, the cold winter air hit them, barely above freezing, the wetsuit underneath would have been some relief from the cold jet of air blowing directly into them.

They arrived at the Suite in good time, some fifteen minutes from the Boarding House. They entered the door and were shown straight through. Lord Cowan was sat at a desk in a large leather chair, flanked on either side by tall men in wetsuits, their faces largely hidden behind tinted masks used for snorkelling.

Jack stepped forward first and was addressed by the larger of the men, standing 6'3" and muscular build, speaking with a common Leicestershire accent.

"Now then lad. Name and house for his Lordship"

"Jack, Sir, Cromwell House"

Lord Cowan looked up from his papers, peering out from behind the glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"Ah Jack. Always lovely to see you, such a shame it has to be under these conditions."

Jack was a favourite of his Lordship, they often conversed on subjects of old, such as Steam Propulsion and the Victorian era.

"I see here you have been mentoring young Guy. I'm, pleased to see you taking an interest in our new lads. Such a shame he is struggling, I thought you'd have guided him to success like your own. How is this?"

"No excuse Sir." spoke Jack, staring straight ahead, standing to attention.

"Well, we'll begin your punishment and get this sorry affair over with, then we can return to more civilised matters. As you know you must take a quarter of Guy's sentence. As this is Guy's third visit, I'm afraid I have to impose a harsher sentence. 24 hours Water tank and a dozen shocks of the mild variety. That makes 6 hours and 3 shocks for you."

"Yes Sir, Thank you Sir. Sorry for my poor performance and I will perform better in the future, Sir!"

"Very well. Make yourself ready and present to the Punishment Officer."

Jack immediately set about removing his Tracksuit, but making sure to place it carefully in a neat pile. Any sign of slackness could incur the wrath of Lord Cowan.

Stripped down to his wetsuit, he was escorted by the guards, holding an arm each, into the next room.

As he passed through the door, the Electric chair was in the centre of the room. The guards walked across the floor until he was before the chair. Releasing his arms, they allowed him to turn and seat himself in the chair. In the next room he could hear Guy being addressed by the Lord. Shortly afterwards Guy was marched into the room as well, stripped to his wetsuit.

The guards methodically set about strapping Jack in. Wrists and Ankles, Chest and Waist. Now they produced a rubber ball gag and leather hood. The gag was forced into Jack's mouth and buckled tightly behind his head. The last thing he saw was the hood being placed over his head. His world descended into blackness as it was yanked down over his face and the collar locked securely. Two small shafts of light were visible through the pinhole openings at his nose, but not enough to see anything clearly. He felt a cold sensation on his neck as a the conducting gel was applied generously. He'd been through this procedure once before, not long after he joined the Institution. He knew what was coming. As the electrodes were placed on his neck, connected to a metal collar, he worked his ball gag into place with his tongue, so it sat between his front teeth. He didn't want to bite his tongue off when the electricity was turned on.

Then, silence. It seemed like forever before he heard the voice of Lord Cowan boom across the room.

"Jack of Cromwell house. You have been found guilty of failing to properly train and supervise somebody under your direction. For this you will now receive your punishment, three electrical shocks of ten seconds each."

As the last words entered his ears, the electricity was turned on. His whole body tensed and he couldn't breath as the current surged through his body, from his neck down to the wires connected at his ankles. His ears buzzed and his thoughts were scrambled. It felt it would never end, but finally the surge faded. He let out a huge sigh and took a deep lung full of fresh air. But the break was over almost before it began. Once again the electricity leapt up the cables and into his body, shaking him un controllably, his muscles were in spasm and pushed against the restraints but they held firm, his body poured with sweat as it tried to cool itself. Suddenly it stopped, the end of the second shock. In his mind he gathered strength, one more to go. The final shock seemed to pass quicker, he was totally exhausted and barely concious as the guard removed the collar and then took off his hood. The fresh air was mercifully cooling, his head covered in sweat. He was unstrapped and helped to his feet, the guard supporting him as he took his first few steps, gingerly away the chair.

"Now then Jack" spoke Lord Cowan. "That's the unpleasantness out of the way. I'm sorry to have to do it but it's the only way you lads will learn. You'll now observe Guy, as he as observed you, received his nine, then you'll get a nice refreshing dip in the tank"

Refreshing dip in the tank was sarcasm. He'd have his hands cuffed behind him and chained to his ankles, a mask would be forced over his face and he'd trapped underwater.

He looked on as Guy was seated and strapped in. Guy's eyes showed his fear as the leather hood was placed over his head. Lord Cowan rose to his feet and strode forward toward the chair "Better check these straps are tight, don't want ought coming losing when the juice is on and flying about"

He pretended to check the wrist cuffs, before making a bee line for Guy's crotch, grabbing a handful while 'examining the lap belt'

Stepping back, he gave the nod. The masked officer pushed a button and the electricity took hold immediately. Guy's body convulsed violently, pushing against the straps holding him in the chair. On off on off on off, it seemed like somebody flicking a light switch. The sweat ran out from underneath the hood, landing on the neck of his wetsuit. Lord Cowan looked on with glee, almost delirious with joy. As the last shock subsided, Guy moaned from the under the hood. The guards unstrapped and helped him to his feet, he could barely stand, Jack rushed forward and caught him in his arms as he fell forward. This brief rest bite gave him the chance to recover and he managed to straighten up.

Standing side by side, Lord Cowan now addressed the lads "You'll now received the second part of your punishment. The tank. While your in there, think of how you will avoid coming back here."

Jack didn't resist as his hands were pinned together behind his back and cuffed. His feet were forced closer together and shackles applied, a chain led up his calf's and linked his hands.

A mask like that used for snorkelling was produced. Styled like a set of swimming goggles, the black plastic wrapped round his eyes and over the bridge of his nose, like spectacles. They wear skirted with a clear perspex, forming a flush fit against his face and covering his nose completely. The close fit formed a water tight seal around his face.

He was led forward into the empty tank. The air hose hung from the roof like a coiled snake. As one guard held him, the other forced it firmly into his mouth. An elastic strap was lifted over his face and down the back of his head, holding the regulatory securely in Jack's mouth.

He glanced sideways and saw Guy receiving the same treatment in the next tank.

From behind, a hand reached through his legs and squeezed his crotch. The surprise caused him to suck hard on the regulator.

"Good that works" muttered the guard as he stepped out and closed the water tight door. As he finished turning the wheel to seal the tank, the water hoses above tank spurted into life. A trickle at first, then a torrent.

The water was a cold 15°C, Jack's hot body caused the mask to mist up instantly. Normally a quick fix for any diver, having his hands pinned his back prevented this. Losing his composure, Jack blasted a jet of hot air out through his nose, trying to relieve his frustration, it made it worse. The water level eventually rose over his head, cooling the mask and turning the hot air to condensation, trickling down the perspex it came to rest in a pool at the bottom of the mask. A fish tank within a fish tank.

It took ten minutes for the chamber to fill completely. The cold water was refreshing to his hot body. He wanted to struggle, but he was afraid of losing the regulator, despite the elastic holding it in place. He settled down and accepted his fate

Finally an electronic timer lit up in front of the tank. 06:00:00... 05:59:59..58...57...56. He managed to turn his head to look at Guy, his timer was counting down from 18. It would tomorrow morning before he was released. A long night alone awaited him.

The clock ran down, steadily but painstakingly slow. His mind was going crazy with lack of activity. Lord Cowan stayed for the first hour, taking great interest in both lads. Seated on a large and well cushioned chair, he took turns sitting in front of either tank, watching intensely. But even he got bored and left the room. In his head he drifted away to other places, fun times. The

Then he realised, to avoid this, he needed to make a plan on getting Guy up to his level and fast. The Nationals were two weeks today, failure or even poor performance at those could result in a very severe punishment session.

This gave him something to focus on, the more he thought the more intense his training programme became. Suddenly the minutes were flying by. First he'd dissect Guy's individual disciplines, swimming, cycling and running. Then transition, was he preparing his kit properly? Did he have his transition drills? Was Guy focused? So much to think about, so many factors.

Suddenly he was overcome with frustration, he wanted answers now. He allowed himself a glance at the clock, 30 minutes left. It was the home straight, he was cruising to a comfortable victory against his own loneliness.

A wave of guilt hit him. He'd spent six hours thinking about helping Guy after he got out, but the first battle would be getting Guy through the night. He'd have another twelve hours after Jack was released. Now he knew what it was to be a mentor. The responsibility was flooding into his mind. Gathering strength in his mind, subconsciously he gritted his teeth, biting down on the regulator, clenching his fists behind his back. Together they'd bounce back from this harder than anyone before.

He was deep in thought when the the drains below his feet began to open. The whir of the motors vibrated the tube and the water became flooding out. His time was up. Evacuating like a damn blown wide open, the chamber emptied in about two minutes. From behind him came a wave of fresh warm air as the guard released the water tight door. This reacted with his cold mask, fogging on the outside this time.

The guard pulled the elastic strap over his head and Jack willingly released his grip on the air hose that had been wedged between his teeth for the last six hours. Now, gently, he teased the strap of the mask over the back of Jack's head. Using his other hand, he forced the front of the mask against Jack's face, before gingerly easing it away from his skin. The stagnant air freed from it's plastic prison, his skin felt clammy to the touch. The guard stepped forward to offer his support as he gestured for Jack to leave the chamber, fearing he might collapse, but instead Jack strode confidently from his watery prison.

The guard stood before him and spoke in his Leicestershire accent "Now then lad, you've punishment is served. It's up to you how you proceed from here"

As he said it, the other guard released Jack's bonds. He quickly began to rotate his shoulders, six hours in the same position was uncomfortable to say the least, but he didn't lose focus.

Quickly he headed to the other room, where he had stripped from his tracksuit some hours earlier. Another guard was waiting, as Jack approached he held out a towel for him to dry. After a slight wipe over his face and fringe, Jack reached round behind his back and located the lanyard of his wetsuit zipper. Giving a sharp tug, the zipper moved down his back. Another tug and it was at his waist. As if transitioning from the Swim to the Bike, Jack vigorously rolled the rubber suit off his shoulders, down to his waist and onward to his ankles. Losing no time, he yanked the last of it over his feet and dumped it into a plastic bag in front of him.

He paused, his muscles would be tight after so long idle, he wouldn't be able to help his friend if he was unfit through injury. Dripping wet and wearing his black trisuit, he went through a short stretching routine. Enough for the run back to the boarding house.

For a moment he pondered his tracksuit. He'd be inside for several hours, isolated from the outside world. When he'd entered, the grips of winter were in full throw. A snatch decision, it would only delay him. Slipping his trainers on, he left the pile of clothes as he found them and made for the door, much to the surprise of the watching guard.

He stepped out the door, a full winter storm was now raging, snow falling almost sideways in the pitch black night. Still his determination didn't falter, there was one thing for it, get his head down and get on with it. Tilting his head forward toward the ground, he set off at sprint pace, head on into the snow, closing his eyes as tight as possible to stop the flakes entering.

He didn't know his time, possibly a PB for all he cared, but he reached the house in swift fashion. Shivering, he passed the lobby and into the communal area.

A log fire was burning intensely in the corner, it's yellow flames dancing uncontrollably, a welcoming comfort from the horrid night outside. Fuel the fire was well stocked, neatly chopped and stacked next to it.

The Mahogany décor added to the feel of the cold winter night outside, giving a warmly feel to the lounge room, It's dark colours went well with the fire.

Portraits of old boys adorned the walls, everyone of them a former champion. They had views all around the room, watching their successors every day/

There were rows and rows of book shelves, lined with all kinds of material, almost like a miniature library. Books on sport, technique, training guides, diet, the list went on. Then there were books on life, autobiographies of previous students.

A grandfather clock stood against one wall. It's large face had the house motto arranged in circular fashion "Tradition, Honour, Passion". It's quiet ticking ever present.

In the middle of the room were two black leather sofas, positioned either side of a wooden coffee table. On the sofas were two first year students, Adam and Marcus. Jack stopped for a moment to acknowledge them. Breathless, he ran his gaze over them. Their dress suggested they too had been out in this weather, training.

Adam, was dressed in black. His plain Nike running tights glistened with the melting snow, his black hooded sweat shirt steamed gently as the flakes evaporated from its surface. On his head, a baseball cap with the peak pulled down, hiding his greeny blue eyes. His dark blond hair was escaping from the edges of the hat, dripping wet with snow and sweat. Adams long body was sprawled across the sofa, relaxing after the workout. The wet Lycra hugged his thin figure tightly, revealing everything.

Marcus sat opposite. He was dressed similar to Adam. Black running tights, a triple yellow stripe ran down the sides from his hips to his knees with a white adidas logo above the left knee. The top half of his body was more colourful, a light blue Karrimor top, with black flashes under the arms. The zip reached up his neck, resting underneath his chin. A Burgundy beanie sat squarely on his head covering his light blond hair.

On the table between them, their gloves laid out to dry, trainers placed underneath.

As Jack surveyed them, the adrenaline subsided and cold bit in. Jack's legs buckled, causing him to slump forward, coming to rest on the back of the sofa where Adam was lounging.

The lads jumped up, grabbing an arm each of their troubled house mate. Laying him on the sofa, Adam took off his hoody and with the help of Marcus, pulled it over Jack's head and down his body. As he comforted Jack, Marcus raced to the kitchen, something hot to warm Jack was required.

Everyone in the house had been aware that Jack and Guy had been sent for punishment, but nobody knew how severe it would be.

Returning from the kitchen, Marcus placed the cup and plate of food on the coffee table. The roaring fire was helping undo the effects of the run back to the house.

"Thank you very much, both of you. I need your help with one more thing, not for me of course.

Guy was hit hard. Nine shocks and eighteen hours in the tank. He's still got twelve hours to go. I've got to make sure when he gets out, I'm ready to help him, so he doesn't get punished again.

I'm going to go over his times, his training plans, his transition drills, everything. We've got the Nationals in two weeks and if he fails at that, Lord Cowan will go mad. He might not survive what Lord Cowan could order! "

Jack rose from the couch and headed to his room. He'd allow himself a quick shower and change of clothes, then back to the Punishment suite, to support his friend.

Stripping out of his Tri suit, he stepped into the warm torrent of water falling from the shower head. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, the water washing over his face was refreshing.

Finishing the shower, he dried himself quickly and headed to the wardrobe. He could hear the snow storm still raging outside. Picking out his tights, he slid them up his legs and zipped the ankles closed. Black socks and trainers were back on. He grabbed his long sleeved base layer shirt, it's high neck was great for trapping the warm air in. Tucking it into his tights, he topped it with his house T shirt and and hoody. Reaching into another draw, he took out his beanie, scarf and gloves. Layering up, he made a final check in the mirror. It was Saturday night but he was still expected to be smartly dressed in whatever he wore. He folded the bottom of jumped under itself, creating a tidier appearance and straightened his woolly hat.

Laying on his bed was his rucksack. Picking it up with his right hand, he walked to his desk and grabbed his training folder, throwing it into the open bag. In went a note pad and pen, before he turned to Guy's desk. It took some hunting, but he found it, Guy's training plan. No time to to grumble about the poor condition it was in, the bag was zipped closed and thrown over his shoulder. As he headed for the door, he spotted his wet bag. A large waterproof bag that wetsuits and alike could be placed in while wet. Picking it up with his spare hand, he thought that would do for bringing back all the clothes down at the Punishment suite, his wetsuit and tracksuit.

Rushing out the door, he almost collided head on with Adam and Marcus. Before he regained his composure {and flight} Adam thrust a Thermos at him, "To keep you going.." he stared into Jack's eyes, to bring him back to the present, from where ever he was in his mind.

"Oh, lovely, thanks a lot, really." Jack dropped his bag from his shoulder, unzipping the compartment for the flask.

At this point Marcus held out a small plastic bag. "We made some sandwiches, for both of you.."

"Thanks lads, it means a lot. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do, I must get on you see"

Adam and Marcus parted, allowing Jack to pass. He hurried back out into the night air, slightly better dressed this time, he jogged the now familiar route to the Punishment suite. As he ploughed through the storm, he passed two lads from another house going the opposite way. Judging from their appearance he guessed they'd just been released from a Punishment stint. Dressed only in wetsuits, they tracksuits slung over their shoulder, they were making a steady pace back to their boarding house. Jack didn't envy them, but he hoped their house would have an Adam and Marcus waiting up for them.

He knocked the door and waited. It was nearly ten o'clock on a Saturday night. The door opened slightly and diminutive guard stepped forward. In a whiny voice "Yes."

"Jack, Sir, of Cromwell house. I am mentoring one of the students you have on Punishment duty."

"And?" the small guard whined again

"I wish to support him Sir for I failed him previously. May I come in?"

"I suppose you could, as long you don't get in the way."

Jack entered the notorious building for the second time that day. It was warmer than the freezing weather outside, but not nearly as comforting as the boarding house he had come from.

The guard returned to his desk, a novel lay on the table, open half way through. Seating himself again the tiny guard snapped "Sign the register and then get out of my way or I'll have you placed on Punishment as well"

Jack scribbled his name and walked into the next room. He briefly glanced at the electric chair, the torture device sat silent, it's next guest unknown.

He walked into the warehouse structure that held the water tube prisons. Very dimly lit, there was only one occupied. He dropped the bags to his feet and stood before Guy, taking in the scene. It was too dim to see if Guy's eyes were open. The narrow tubes made it impossible for the captive to move out of their standing position, so prisoners in for a long session slept upright. He looked at the trail of bubbles rising up through the water, slow and steady, he guessed Guy was probably asleep.

He looked around in the gloom, not a table or even a chair to be found. It would be no use asking Mr helpful on the desk, in fact it could do more harm than good. He sighed and slumped to the floor. With a swipe of his hand, he removed his beanie, before peeling off his gloves and tossing them onto his hat.

He opened Guys training folder and began to read. After a few minutes he started scribbling down notes in his own folder.

Jack awoke to the feeling of somebody pushing and prodding him. For a moment he struggled to remember where he was. He looked up to see one of Lord Cowan's personal officers standing over him, pushing him with his foot.

His brain jumped into gear and he leapt to his feet, his light blond hair had dried over night and was now a real mess.

"Sorry Sir, I didn't.."

"At ease, Jack." spoke the guard, his Leicestershire accent jerked Jacks mind back 24 hours, standing in front of Lord Cowan ready to learn his punishment.

"It's 07:30. You dozed off around midnight last night. Lord Cowan was informed when he rose for breakfast and wished to see for himself."

He glanced at the door and nodded to a figure standing by it. They stepped forward and opened the door, before standing to attention.

The light flooded through from the next room, shadowing the figure entering. As he got closer, Jack, standing at attention, could see it was Lord Cowan.

Leaning forward on his walking stick, he shuffled across the hall to where Jack was stood, in front of the tank holding his friend and room mate, Guy.

Peering at Jack, he adjusted his glasses and turned to the guard who had woken him.

"Been here all night you say?"

"Yes Sir, slept on the floor in front of the tank"

"I see he's been scribbling.."

The guard bent down and picked up Jack's pad before passing it to Lord Cowan. It was full of notes about times, swim laps, cycle miles, running pace. He flicked through the pad, making approving noises. He closed the book and handed it back to the guard.

"You've been busy young Jack. Exactly how much time have you spent away from here since your punishment ended yesterday evening?"

"About two hours Sir. I went back to the boarding house to get washed and changed, then came straight back"

"And you've been planning, planning to help your charge?"

"Yes Sir."

"Then let's get on with it. I'm sure I can let 30 minutes slide."

Lord Cowan's right hand man jumped into life

"Drain the tank" he barked in a deep voice

Once again the electric motors whirred as the valves opened to drain the water from the tank that had held Guy for the best part of a day.

As the watertight door opened, two guards stepped in, one supporting Guy as the other removed his air hose and mask. Gently they led him out into the open, the fresh air around his face caused him to stir as the guards step about removing his restraints. Jack looked on, his body facing Lord Cowan but his head turned to his friend.

Remembering his place, he snapped his head back to face the burly Lord, who had been watching Jack, watch Guy.

"Its OK, you can goto him"

With a slight acknowledgement to Cowan, he briskly strode across to the semi concious Guy. The guards stood aside and Jack reached out to embrace Guy as he slumped forward into his arms. His soaking wetsuit was running all over Jack but neither lad cared.

Looking to his Lordship, Jack gave a silent look that asked permission.

"His punishment is complete and you may both return to your house. Dismissed!"

Jack helped his weak friend to the floor and set about packing up his various clothes and books, sorting them into a ruck sack and wet bag.

With Guy resting on Jack, they set off for the boarding house. As they exited the punishment suite, they met a familiar pair, Marcus and Adam.

"We thought you'd need a hand, so we've come to help" spoke Marcus in his deep Cambridgeshire accent.

Guy was resting on Jack's left shoulder, so Adam positioned himself to Guy's left, supporting his other side, while Marcus extend his hand toward Jack, signalling for the bags he carried.

The winter storm had blown out overnight, leaving a foot of snow on the ground, but still the dark grey sky threatened more. As the group made their way to Cromwell house, lads everywhere were deployed in snow clearing duties, shovelling and salting pathways. A large number of them had opted for wetsuits, feeling that it offered the best defensive against the cold and wet snow. Neoprene bodies everywhere sweating away, working together like a well oiled machine.

Entering the house, they headed straight to Jack and Guy's room. Reaching the door, Adam and Marcus stopped

"We'll go and get some food and drinks" Adam announced in a soft voice, leaving Jack to help Guy.

Jack took up position behind Guy and took the lanyard of his wetsuit zipper in his hand, before giving a sharp tug downwards. He eased the rubber suit off his shoulders then slowly rolling the sleeves back, freeing his arms.

He dropped to his knees and held the suit as Guy stepped out, one leg at a time. Tossing the wetsuit to one side, he stood up again and located the zip of the trisuit, sliding it down Guy's back.

Guy let out a sigh of relief "Thanks man. My body is so stiff it's hell. Hopefully a shower will help."

He rummaged through his draws, pulling out some clothes that would see him attired similarly to his room mate, as he'd noticed it seemed to be the style of the day. There were no set uniform criteria for Sundays, so lads generally dressed how they felt comfortable. Marcus and Adam had been dressed in their running clothes from the night before, presumably to combat the cold conditions outside, stopping short of the heavy wetsuits worn by some of the other lads of the institute engaged in snow duties.

Guy emerged from the shower, dressed in running tights with a triple red adidas stripe down the sides of the leg, from hip to knee. A baggy hoody sweatshirt adorned his top half, while his wild hair was untamed, still wet from the shower.

The room was full. Jack sat on the side of his bed, while Adam and Marcus occupied each of the office chairs at the respective desks.

Before Guy could speak, there was a knock at the door and the house master entered.

"Ah Gentlemen, I thought I might find you here." he spoke, looking round the room.

"I'm afraid we have a nasty situation developing. The storm has cut off the village of Altea in the pass, it's deposited quite a large amount of snow in the valley and traffic is unable to get through. The forecast says the weather is for the next week. We can't be cut off for that long so Lord Cowan has offered our assistance to the village. His Lordship requests volunteers to help clear the pass.

As you may have seen, the majority of the college is already engaged in clean up work around the grounds. I'd like to see Cromwell house stepping up to this important challenge and I'm sure you four are about to volunteer..."

He paused. The four lads exchanged glances. Lord Cowan liked to use words like request and volunteer, but to decline him would be grave error.

Marcus rose from his seat, nudging Adam.

"We'd like to volunteer Sir."

"Very well. There is no rig of the day but it's been suggested wetsuits will be good protection against the weather. Ready in... ten minutes"

The lads left the room, leaving Jack and Guy.

"And you gentlemen? Shall I count on your support? I'm sure his Lordship will look favourably upon it given your recent stay at the punishment suite."

Both students were clearly tired from the last 24 hours, but to turn down a request from Lord Cowan would not do well. Jack took the lead.

"We'll be ready in, Sir."

The house master turned and left the room, leaving the two alone once again.

"I don't know about you Jack, but I've spent quite enough time in my wetsuit lately, besides, it's still wet. I'm just going to slip my tracksuit over my tights and tough it out."

"Same mate, but I'm going to stick a trisuit on over my tights, protect the core temperature and all that" answered Jack, as he rose to his feet, peeling off his jumper and t shirt."

The group assembled in the hallway, the house master would use the house minibus to get them as close as possible to the snow drift, after that they'd had to walk.

Marcus and Adam had gone for full neoprene. Wetsuits, gloves and boots. In addition, Adam had dug out his wetsuit hood that he wore for free diving. His face was the only part of skin exposed to the outside world. Jack ponder how toasty he must be under all that rubber.

They set out, slow and steady, navigating the freshly cleared roads around campus. The five mile journey seemed to take forever, before finally they arrived at the former toll booth on the valley road.

The house master turned round to the back seats "You'll have to start from here lads, I can't get any further." He tossed a key to Jack, sat closest to him. "That'll unlock the toll booth. There are shovels and salt in there. You can take shelter if it gets too bad, but the electric is off so you'll have to make do. See you back at the house,"

The group stepped out from the van into the cold air. The wind was whistling down the valley like a wind tunnel, the ice feel felt like knife slicing straight through their clothing. Jack was immediately glad of his trisuit, the extra layer of trapped heat would be needed for sure. All around was white, with the dark grey sky blotting out the winter sun, light was very poor.

Jack turned to the group "Well we don't want to stand here all day. Let's get going and then we can get back in the dry" he shouted above the wind as he unlocked the wooden shack of a toll booth.

"We'll split into two teams. Guy and Marcus, start clearing the snow. I'll take Adam with me and we'll follow behind salting. We can change over every hour."

The lads nodded. Guy and Marcus picked up a shovel each and headed off into the distance.

Adam stepped into the cabin, a small affair, large enough to accommodate a man collecting tolls and no more.

As Jack followed, a sudden gust of wind whipped the door. It swung shut with a fierce bang, crashing into Jack and knocking him off his feet. He staggered toward Adam trying to regain his balance, but failed. Falling into him, they both landed on the floor in a heap, Jack embarrassingly atop of Adam.

"Oh excuse me, I'm sorry, I lost my balance" Jack spluttered as he tried to un twine himself from the wetsuit clad boy underneath him.

He attempted to stand up, but Adam slipped a hand round behind his head and gently coaxed toward him. Jack was shocked, but didn't resist. As their heads met, Adam kissed Jack softly, lips to lips. His emotions took over, Jack began to kiss him back, sliding a hand behind Adam to better grip him.

The passion began to get more intense very quickly, Adam easing down Jack's tracksuit bottoms whilst Jack fondled the zip of Adam's wetsuit, caressing it down his back, opening the suit out.


End file.
